Nothing
by sxrxhhhhhhh
Summary: "Every time you thought of killing yourself, did you never think of me? Did you never stop to realize I need you? Did you never stop to realize I love you? I love you, Derek," he choked out in a broken whisper slowly turning to a shout, "I love you!"
1. Chapter 1

Stiles Stilinski loves many things. Many, many things. English class, however, is not one of them. He's a smart guy, one of the smartest people you'll ever meet, but nothing can make him go insane like an hour in a room with Mrs Blake. She isn't a mean teacher, she is rarely a bitch, but holy fuck she can't go two minutes without saying something. If it isn't for his friends, he would've either gone completely nuts, or he would've thrown something at her. Preferably something which would hurt. A lot. Seriously, he's thought about it several times. Like, an amount of times where anybody who doesn't know Stiles would actually consider sending him to the guidance counsellor for some serious help.

Derek Hale on the other hand, hates the majority of things. Including this class. His friends are the only thing he cares about. He's a popular guy, very few people knew how to hate him; except himself. He'll never tell anyone, but he hasn't been happy for as long as he could remember. He has everything: looks, money, popularity. You name it, he has it. But none of those things make it any better. He still hates himself with every fibre of his being. He still dreams of his own death. He still spends nights alone and bleeding, in the hopes of forgetting about how shitty he feels. It doesn't work, but at least his friends can keep him distracted in the daytime.

The two boys are complete opposites. Stiles is the light in the day, Derek is the darkness in the night. Even so, they are good together. Friends. Nothing more, nothing less. Nobody is really sure how they got so close, not even them – Derek is the popular one, Stiles just has his small little group of friends. Derek is the guy everybody wants to be or to be with, Stiles is 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, and basically nobody even knows so much as his name. In spite of all the reasons they shouldn't work, they do, and anybody can see how close they are. Even if they don't spend their lunches together, even if they aren't together 24/7, anybody can see how much they care for each other, and how much they laugh around each other. So it isn't a surprise when Mrs Blake pairs them for the next English project.

"Everybody, this project is on Shakespeare. I will assign you all a partner, and you will all research Shakespeare himself, and a novel of your choice. Your work can be presented however you wish, as long as it as detailed as possible, and," the brunette pauses to glare at Greenberg before continuing, "it must actually be readable." A few members of the class laugh for a second, remembering his last project, and how nobody could even begin to decipher his messy writing since he'd clearly done the whole thing in a matter of 10 minutes. The teacher then proceeds to read out the already decided pairs, ending with Stiles and Derek.

And boy, is Stiles happy. He'd never admit it, but for the past 2 years, he'd seriously started questioning things. Namely, his sexuality. Until he was 14, he'd always thought he was straight. But after he became closer friends with Derek, things began to change. Since third grade, it'd been all about Lydia. He was obsessed. And then at age 14, he was in the hospital waiting room while his dad was having a few scans for some sort of liver disease. He didn't have it, but that's beside the point. Derek was also in the same room, since his little sister Cora had something wrong, Stiles never found out what. The two boys sat together for the next hour and a half, starting with small talk about the weather, and ending in knowing many things about each other, like their favourite movies and songs and what makes them happy. After that day, they just kind of stuck. But now that he knew the real Derek Hale, Stiles couldn't help but fall for him a little more every time they spoke. Within a couple of months, it'd gone from them never speaking to them being close and Stiles falling for Derek's hair and eyes and smile and voice and the way he walked and oh god he'd never been so in love with anybody, not even Lydia. Thinking about it now, he should've known he was bisexual right from that day in the hospital waiting room. And he tells Derek everything, but he'll never tell him this.

"Bonjour, bitch!" Derek shouts to Stiles from across the room. Mrs Blake calmly tells him to not use that kind of language in the classroom, but is quickly interrupted by Stiles scream-singing his new version of Derek's current favourite song, Hello by Adele.

" _Hello, it's Stiles,_

 _I was wondering if after all these hours you'd like to meet,_

 _to go over Shakespeare,_

 _they say Macbeth's supposed to be bad,_

 _but Othello is better,_

 _Hello, can you hear me,_

 _I'm across the room yeah, dreaming about Julius Caesar,_

 _and when Shakespeare was here,_

 _I've want to know how it felt before the world fell at his feet"_

After Stiles' little performance, Derek can barely breathe, the rest of the class are hysterical, and even the teacher is struggling to suppress her laughter. He takes a seat next to Derek, face remaining completely serious.

"So I was thinking, Romeo and Juliet. You good with that?" He says without even a hint of a smile, while Derek is still laughing so hard he's almost crying. "I'll take that as a yes then. Romeo and Juliet is!" He smirks, mouth slightly turning at the corners at the sound of Derek's happiness. While the taller boy calms himself, Stiles looks around to see who is working with who, and whether anybody else is as entertained as the person next to him. Scott is sat with Allison, surprise surprise. Despite being best friends, Scott is usually with his girlfriend instead of with Stiles. Not that he's complaining, since it often means he has more chances to work with a certain someone else. Scott and Allison have both moved back onto their work. Looking at the other pairs, Lydia and Jackson, Liam and Isaac, and Kira and Greenberg - which isn't surprising either. Mrs Blake was pretty smart to put the neatest in the class with the messiest - he can see that nobody else is still bothered about his song, only Derek, which for some reason makes him pretty happy and even proud. Possibly because the person he wants to make happiest, is the happiest one there.

Once Derek has composed himself, he looks at Stiles and remembers the project. Okay, Romeo and Juliet. He can work with that. It's a good job he was paired with Stiles, because if he was with anybody else, he might go out of his mind. Somehow the boy sat beside him can make things seem worth it, even when all he wants to do is die, and oh crap, now he's thinking about dying. But at least it'll be soon. He has plans. If things go how he wants for once, he isn't going to wake up tomorrow. Nothing is going to change his mind, not even Stiles. But can he really do that to Stiles? Fuck. No, he can do it. He will do it. Stiles doesn't care about him. He is nothing, not even to the people he considers friends. They wouldn't even notice his disappearance.

"Derek? Derek, you there? You okay?" Stiles' voice brings Derek back to reality, and he realizes he's been completely zoned out for the past 5 minutes. Stiles wasn't actually worried, right? Of course not. He wasn't worth worrying about. Trying to distract himself from his thoughts so he could focus on seeming normal like usual, he pressed lightly on his sleeve, on his wrist where he had cut the day before. Thank fuck the other boy didn't notice.

"Yeah I'm fine, just slightly sick. I probably shouldn't have even come to school today," he said. Wow. Nice lie. Original. Somehow, Stiles seemed to buy it.

"Yeah, I figured. You're pale as fuck, dude. You should probably ask to go home, you literally look ready to throw up. No offence or anything, but I don't really cope well with vomit," Stiles said, looking concerned but also chuckling at the last part.

"Yeah, I'm gonna ask now. You sure you can do the hour alone?" He asked. He didn't want to leave his friend on his own, but maybe going home would actually be a good thing. The sooner he could be alone, the sooner he could end everything. And besides, he's pretty sure he's bleeding through his shirt right now, not that it's too much of a problem since his shirt is black. After thinking of the pros of going home, he decides it's best to do so, and gets out his seat. He walks over to the teacher, and hopes for the best.

"Derek, what can I help you with?" She asks, voice sounding way too happy to be genuinely nice.

"I don't think I should be in school today, I really don't feel well. I feel like I'm going to throw up," he says, trying to sound as honest as possible. It is actually kind of true though, so it's easy for Mrs Blake to believe him.

"Yes, you do look sick. You can get your stuff together and go, if you want to go now. I can tell the office later, if that's okay?" She tells him. He agrees to do so, so he makes his way back over to his and Stiles' table.

"You going now?" The boy asks, looking sadder than Derek expected. Can he really do it? N _o, stop questioning it. You're going to do it. You have to,_ Derek thinks to himself.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow if I'm any better," he lies, packing his things away into his bag. He leaves, taking a moment to look at Stiles one last time. He walks out the door, refusing to have any more second thoughts about his plans. However, he fails to notice the notebook falling out of his bag before he leaves.

"Derek!" Stiles calls, when he notices it, but it's too late, as he's already gone. He sees the bookmark sticking out, and Stiles being Stiles, just has to read it. He pauses, what if it's super private? But then again, doesn't Derek tell him most things anyway? He chooses to read it, considering it's likely something he already knows.

" _Everybody has a time, right? A time they're supposed to die? This was my time."_

Stiles hesitates to read on. This isn't right. No, it can't be right. Derek was so happy only half an hour ago, wasn't he? Stiles hopes this is just a story or something. Derek has to be fine, he's always been fine.

" _I waited for this for so long, but it never felt right. But that changed. It felt right now. If anybody is reading this, then I'm not sorry. I didn't want to hurt anybody, but I'm not sorry. I didn't regret this. This was what I wanted. On the 12_ _th_ _of January, I gave up. It won't affect anyone, I was nothing, but still, if it matters at all, stop. Forget me. Goodbye. - Derek Hale"_

No. No, no, no, no. No. Today is the 12th of January. Stiles wasn't okay with this. Derek Hale and suicide don't go together. They don't belong in the same sentence. The thought alone is enough to leave a bitter taste. Stiles reread the page twice, and he swore he was going to have a fucking heart attack. Is that blood on the corner of the page? He doesn't even want to know. But what he does know is that it's all in past tense. Derek has to still be okay, right? He can't have done anything yet, right? Yet.

"Dude, earth to Stiles! What's wrong? Why are you crying? Stiles!" Scott is gradually having to raise his voice, but Stiles still isn't hearing anything, not until Allison has to literally shake him out of his state. Stiles shoves all his things into his bag, including the notebook. He goes as quickly as he possibly can, ignoring all the questions and everything else from his friends. And then he runs. He runs faster than he ever has before. If Derek wasn't possibly dying, he would be pretty fucking proud. But he has to get to Derek. He has to.


	2. Chapter 2

For years, kids in school have made fun of Stiles for the way he runs. Well, not quite "runs", but perhaps "tries to run". Fuck, if they could see him now, they'd never laugh at him again. However, that's not important, not now. He races to Derek's house, internally cursing at himself for bothering to bring his belongings and Derek's notebook. The weight of his bag slows him down, and he really doesn't need to be held back at a time like this. The one person he loves, more than anything in this entire world, is dying. Not "could be", not "will be", but "is". If there's one thing Stiles knows, it's that Derek doesn't wait. Ever. The second he remembers this, he's sprinting, something he never thought he'd do.

When he finally reaches the door, in record time by the way, he doesn't waste time by knocking. Instead, he flings the door open, screaming Derek's name and internally begging for an answer. He doesn't get one.

Derek's here somewhere, he knows it. He can feel it in the air, if that's even possible. Which room he's in, Stiles doesn't know, but he must find out before it's too late to save the boy he needs, the boy he loves with every fibre of his being.

He searches the bedrooms first – surely the most obvious place. He runs up the stairs, two at a time, still screaming for Derek, even though his throat was on fire by now. The only time it'd ever burned this bad was when he took seventeen shots of vodka, one after the other, in hopes of forgetting about the world around him. Which, honestly, is something he could do with right now. Maybe later. He runs to Derek's room first, which he immediately notices is empty. The same happens when he checks on the other bedrooms, which probably wasn't necessary but what the hell. It's then that he hears it, the sound of something being dropped. In the bathroom. Derek is in the bathroom.

Holy fuck.

He knew what he was going to see would kill him, but not like this. He's not sure what he expected. Perhaps an empty pill bottle, maybe Derek lying down and not breathing. But he didn't see this coming. Okay so maybe he was right about an empty pill bottle, but there's blood. A lot of it. Everywhere. Derek's arms, Derek's legs, the bath, the floor, the walls. Surely nobody could survive this, and Stiles knows that, but he's not giving up. He's going to save the boy, if it's the last goddamn thing he does.

"You're not.. you're not supposed.. to be.. here," Derek mumbles, only just audible as he's barely conscious.

"I'm here. I'm always here. Derek, stay awake, okay? Don't you dare close your eyes, I'm begging you. I'm going to call an ambulance," Stiles whispers calmly, using all the strength he has in him to not break right now. Derek pleads with him not to ask for help, but it's useless. The smaller boy won't listen, he's not losing Derek. He's lost so many things in the past few years, and he's not losing anything else. He can't do that, how would he cope? If he lost someone else, he'd go out of his mind. And he's not doing that, so he calls an ambulance, holding back tears as he gives them the name, address and tells them it was a suicide attempt. As much as he tries to stop it, his voice cracks on the word 'suicide' and he finally lets his emotions run down his cheek. He ends the call, and looks at Derek hopelessly, knowing there's nothing else he can do but beg Derek not to die on him.

"It's okay, Stiles. It's okay," Derek barely gets out. His tears threaten to spill at the sight of Stiles breaking in front of him.

"No, no, no, don't you dare tell me it's okay!" Stiles almost yells in frustration. "How could this ever be okay? Fuck, you're barely breathing and you're telling me that it's okay? You can't do this, you can't leave me! I need you, Derek!" he shouts, ending in a broken sob.

"I was nothing," Derek says, wincing as he tries to move his arm in an effort to hold Stiles' hand in what he's almost certain are his last moments.

"Stop that. Stop talking as if you're already gone. You're going to stay, yeah? You're going to be okay," the smaller boy cries. "And you're not nothing. You're everything to me," he tries to say, but it's too late. Derek's eyes are closed, and he's not breathing. Shit, shit, shit, he's not breathing. Stiles screams. He screams, because he knows he's losing him. He screams, because he can't. He screams, because he's in agony and he can't help anyone and he's useless and hopeless. He screams, because he was too late to stop Derek from doing this to himself.

He hears running, and he knows there are medics coming, but will they be able to save Derek? Is he too far gone? Fuck, he shouldn't think like that. He yells that he's in the bathroom, and suddenly there are people here, talking in words he can't understand. Not because they're big words that are more than 3 syllables long, but because he can't hear and he can't see. It's all a blur, and nothing feels real. But it is.

Only a few minutes later, they're loading Derek into the ambulance, and Stiles is going with them. At first, they try to stop him, but he puts up a good argument, and for the sake of saving time and possibly a life, they give in and let him. He's not sure how long the journey is, but it's definitely too damn long.

It burns. He feels it in his fingers, his feet, his stomach and everywhere inbetween. This isn't a panic attack; he's had many of those, and they were hell, but this. This is not a panic attack. This is a soul-ripping and excruciating pain that he's never felt before. This is crescent-shaped lines turning into bruises on his palms because he's pressing his nails into himself, just to feel something other than knives in his stomach. Within less than an hour, happiness has become something like a distant and unreachable concept, because his entire universe is collapsing on him. Fuck, it's his fault. He should've noticed that Derek wasn't okay, but he didn't, and now he's in a mess. He thought everything was alright, yet now he's here – sat in an ambulance, tears falling freely, and not knowing whether Derek's going to live to see tomorrow.

He didn't even have to know how Derek felt. He still could've done something, helped without knowing. If only he told Derek he loved him. If only he told him that he was the best thing that ever happened. And now he might not even have the chance.

* * *

He's alive, but not really. He hasn't woken up since they day when he collapsed in Stiles' lap. He's in a coma, and the doctors say he should be okay, but Stiles is losing hope. It's been a week. A fucking week without so much as a single movement, unless the steady rise and fall of his chest is included; Stiles chooses not to, because it isn't Derek - it's a machine. So, no, Derek isn't really alive, he just has a heartbeat.

The doctors say it was because of the pills or the blood loss. Maybe both. Stiles had once read somewhere that if you overdose on sleeping pills, your stomach gradually turns to acid, and it's said to be agonizing. Is Derek in pain? Oh god, the thought makes him want to throw up. Not only is Derek possibly dying, it could be hurting him in the process. Why did he do this to himself? What hurt him so badly that he felt he had to hurt himself? What if Stiles can never ask?

Derek's parents have stayed for 6 hours per day, and have spent time with Stiles too, silently crying. It's nice actually, to have the company. Stiles hasn't left the hospital this week, not even for a second, so it's nice to not be alone all the time. It's not all great though, as anybody who sees him tries to make him eat or drink something. He just doesn't have the appetite anymore. It's almost as if he doesn't deserve it. It's his fault that Derek is dying, and now he should be too. At least, that's what he thinks sometimes.

He hasn't slept either. It's been almost eight days since he last closed his eyes for longer than five minutes, and anybody could see that. God, he looks the same as some of the patients in this hospital, but he doesn't care. He feels like shit, he might as well look like it

He hasn't visited this hospital in the past two years. The last time he was here was the day where his father was checked for liver disease. It's funny how things change – two years ago, he met Derek in this place, and now this is the place where he's losing him. He remembers part of their conversation from that day, and he never thought anything of it. How fucking stupid of him.

 _"You know, I haven't been here since my mom was dying. My dad wouldn't let me see her when she got really ill, so the last memory I have of her is her telling me about the stars outside her window. It was the middle of the day, but she made them sound so beautiful," Stiles smiled softly at the thought of his mother._

 _"The last time I was here was when Laura was in a car accident. She was surprisingly fine, so it's not really a memory I guess, but I do still remember the night when she'd been given a lot of painkillers. She was telling us about our neighbor's cat – they actually had a dog," Derek laughed, remembering her description of a pink cat with purple whiskers. "Next time I'm here, it'll be for me."_

 _"What? Why?" Stiles asked curiously, not quite understanding what was being said._

 _"I do a lot of stupid stuff – it's a wonder I haven't been in here for myself yet," Derek joked, hiding his sadness with a fake smile and fake laughter. Stiles bought it._

Looking back on it now, Stiles just wants to kick himself. It was so clear what Derek really meant. He wanted to be in here, because he wanted to die. God, he's been wanting to do this for two years, and nobody ever noticed? Stiles doesn't want to think about that, it'll only bring him guilt, and he's got enough of that to last a lifetime. He needs Derek to pull through. He needs to apologize for not being here, for not seeing what was happening. And if he can't say it to him when he's awake, he has to say it now.

He leaves the waiting room, and walks through the door into Derek's room. He swears his heart stops for a second every time he sees Derek, and not for a good reason. There's no good way to say it. Derek looks awful. He's getting worse, and Stiles knows that he might never be coming back. He can tell by the way Derek's skin is paler than anything he's ever seen, and the way his body hasn't moved since the last time he saw him. He takes a minute to compose himself, before he starts speaking to Derek, praying that he can hear him somehow.

"I don't know if you're listening right now, but I need to know that I said this. I'm so sorry, Derek. I'm so sorry for letting this happen. Fuck, if I'd have just paid more attention sometimes, you wouldn't be lying in this hospital bed and I wouldn't be crying, but anyway.. I need you to wake up. Just open your eyes, yeah? Just squeeze my fingers. Just do something, show me you're not going to leave, okay? Don't leave me, don't you fucking dare. If you go, I don't.. I don't know what I'll do. I'll go crazy. I'll blame myself for this, I'll die inside every damn day, I'll cry for hours every night, I'll stop functioning. Because I didn't save you. Please, Derek, don't make me do that. I just.. I can't.. I can't do this without you. I'm begging you. Stay. Just.. stay," Stiles cried, finishing his speech. He didn't expect himself to say so much, but he's kind of glad he did. Maybe Derek could hear him, and maybe he was listening to every broken cry, maybe he would stay for Stiles. Maybe he would wake up.

And he did.


End file.
